


throughout the centuries (it's always you)

by sicsempertyrannis



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsempertyrannis/pseuds/sicsempertyrannis
Summary: A study of Joe and Nicky throughout the centuries of their relationship, during the off-times away from battles.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 28
Kudos: 553





	throughout the centuries (it's always you)

**Author's Note:**

> when watching this, was anyone else absolutely mystified at the fact that they've been in love for a thousand years. i was! and that's why i wrote this

11TH CENTURY

“No more,” the man said in a broken tongue, the unfamiliar language tripping out of him.

He was leaning over Yusuf, one hand outstretched and the other splayed wide, far from his weapon. The sun was behind his head, casting the illusion that light was trapped inside his dark hair. For a moment Yusuf just stared, convinced that this was one of the angels his enemies fought and bled for, descending to give him a message.

“No more,” Yusuf copied, reaching his hand up and letting himself be pulled up by this stranger. No, stranger was the wrong word. They had met many times before, hatred and prejudice boiling into the clash of swords.

Despite all he had been taught, Yusuf still felt this pull inside him, tugging him towards the other man. Slowly, he made a movement towards the sword strapped to his body, trying to be as obvious in intentions as possible as he pulled it out. Unceremoniously, he tossed the weapon on the ground between them.

Without hesitation, the other man did the same with his own weapon. For the first time in years, Yusuf was unarmed, baring himself to the world. Even with his newfound inability to die, he felt vulnerable. Breaths quickened when blue met brown, a lightning bolt of connection.

“Nicolo,” the man said, pointing towards his chest.

“Yusuf.”

12TH CENTURY

“It’s both of you?” the woman asked in Nicolo’s language, one arm crossed over the other. She had introduced herself as Andromache, but the way she cut herself off after the introduction set Yusuf’s nerves alight. There was something more to the name, something more to her.

“Is there a problem?” Yusuf countered, glancing at Nicolo before he turned back to Andromache. The ache in his head increased at the sharp action, another reminder of the dreams he and Nicolo had been sharing for months now. So far, all this woman had granted them was sleepless nights and far too much tension.

“No,” Andromache said. “There isn’t one.”

“You’re like us?” Nicolo asked, stepping to Yusuf’s left and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The tightness in Yusuf’s chest eased for a moment while he allowed himself to sink into his lover’s grasp. It was Andromache’s response that caught his attention.

“Yes, and there’s more.”

“How many?” Yusuf asked.

“Just one,” Andromache said. “For now.” Her eyes were fixated on the juncture of Nicolo’s palm and Yusuf’s shoulder. Self-consciously, Nicolo moved to remove his palm before Yusuf caught it, making it stay there. Yusuf glared at Andromache, a challenge in his eyes.

“I think we should talk,” Andromache said.

13TH CENTURY

“How are these still happening?” Nicolo asked, leaning his head on Yusuf’s. They were high up on the hill, watching the battle far below. “Another round of battles, religion against religion.”

“If only they were as lucky as us, love overpowering the hate,” Yusuf said, turning his head away from the gore to stare into his lover’s eyes. Closing his eyes gently, he leaned in and kissed Nicolo, feeling the way this kiss made his heart race more than any war ever could.

“I don’t think anyone is as lucky as us,” Nicolo murmured when he pulled back, eyes half-closed and voice heavy.

“No, I don’t think they are.”

14TH CENTURY

Luck ran out. It had been so long since either of them had died, to the point where the creeping anxiety at the back of Yusuf’s mind tried to convince him they were mortal once more. When the disease came, it was all he could do to not drop everything and run, despite Nicolo’s assurance that they must use their privilege to help however they could.

Nicolo caught it first, the fever and chills confining him to their bed. All around the couple the world died, and still Yusuf clung on to Nicolo’s hand at their bedside, bringing him whatever he needed. When his death came, so did Yusuf’s despair. It was only the sharp gasp of air, clear for the first time in days, that restored feeling in his body.

“You’re okay,” Yusuf said, forcing the words out like a prayer while pulling Nicolo to him. “You’re okay.”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Nicolo said with a slight laugh, head still tucked into the crook of Yusuf’s neck. “I’ll always come back for you.”

15TH CENTURY

“I can’t believe you never learned to sail,” Yusuf laughed, half doubled over.

Nicolo was looking at him unimpressed, hands tight around the edges of the boat. The Mediterranean wind lightly rocked the ship, sending sprays of salt water over the hull. They had sailed out there together for a nice day alone, away from the constraints of society, before Nicolo made the dreaded admission.

“I never had a need to,” Nicolo said.

“I don’t believe that.”

Nicolo turned to face the water, where the sunlight reflected from below turned his pale skin golden. Yusuf’s breath caught in his throat as he admired his lover without shame. There were ships on the horizon, but none close enough to force them to hide their love. Nicolo’s eyes were the exact color as the water surrounding them, and Yusuf found himself leaning forward as if pulled in by an invisible force.

With a smile, Nicolo noticed Yusuf’s attention and turned back, meeting in the middle with a kiss. It was silence all around them, the gentle lapping of the waves fading to nothing.

“This isn’t getting you out of learning to sail,” Yusuf murmured, lips still half-pressed against Nicolo’s mouth.

Nicolo cursed softly.

16TH CENTURY

“You don’t have to be jealous,” Nicolo said, arms crossed over the other. He was leaning against the doorframe of their small house, the door closed behind him. The light from the fire danced across his face, almost hiding the gentle tug of lips.

“Every artist around wants to use you as his muse,” Yusuf countered, sitting at their table with the chair facing Nicolo. “I think I have a right to be jealous.”

Nicolo narrowed his eyes, pushing off from the doorframe and crossing the room towards Yusuf. Slowly, he put one leg on Yusuf and then the other, straddling him. Dramatically, he placed both hands on Yusuf’s shoulders and leaned in, faces barely a breath away. Yusuf deepened his breathing, circling his arms around Nicolo’s waist.

“None of those people matter to me,” Nicolo whispered, staring into Yusuf’s eyes. “You are the only one who truly knows me, who can truly see me. If I am muse to anyone, it is always to you.”

Yusuf dragged Nicolo closer, pulling him into a deep kiss. With the heat of the fireplace and the heat of his lover on top of him, the temperature of the room was nigh unbearable. Only the sharp imprints of Nicolo’s nails on his shoulders kept him from completely melting.

With an obscene pop as their lips parted, Yusuf leaned back and rested his forehead against Nicolo’s, both men gasping.

“We should move,” Yusuf said. “I don’t trust the strength of this chair."

“Agreed.”

17TH CENTURY

The cottage was silent and dark, the wind chill blowing through the open windows. Yusuf rubbed warmth back into his arms while Nicolo kneeled on the ground by Andromache, reaching out with a comforting hand.

“I’m fine,” Andromache insisted, putting up her hand before he could touch her. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolo said, placing his hand back down by his side. He glanced at Yusuf, searching for support.

“We’ll find Quynh,” Yusuf said from his perch in the room.

“No,” Andromache said, shaking her head. “I’ve already tried. I can’t… I can’t imagine what it must be like for her.”

Yusuf winced. He had drowned once before, a freak storm capsizing a ship they were on. Nicolo had had to dive in and drag him out of the water, resting him on one the broken planks. It had been one of his most painful deaths, the memory of the water burning into his lungs haunting him to this day.

“We can save her,” Nicolo said, tentatively reaching out once more towards Andromache. This time, she let him, leaning in to the hand on her shoulder. Yusuf watched it all with a lump in his throat, fear threatening to claw its way out of him. The thought of that fate for Nicolo, what could happen if they got caught. He shook his head, refusing to entertain that path.

Yusuf would drain the oceans to save Nicolo.

18TH CENTURY

“Fucking pirates,” Yusuf grumbled, tucking his head into Nicolo’s neck. Nicolo huffed a laughed, lifting his shoulders into Yusuf as much as he could while still keeping his arms behind his back.

They had been on a transport ship from the New World to the Old. After going there to watch over Andromache, they had stayed there for decades, helping the Native tribes defend their land. Eventually, it was time for their departure; staying too long in one place set an itch under Yusuf’s skin.

A week after their ship had launched, another ship had been spotted on the horizon, a black sail sending the crew into a frenzy. Pirates, Yusuf gathered. Now, crowded on the deck with the rest of the inhabitants while the pirates raided their belongings, Yusuf almost wished they had stayed in the New World.

“Maybe we could join them, try something new,” Nicolo said, leaning his head to look into Yusuf’s eyes.

“Join the pirates?” Yusuf questioned, one eyebrow raised.

“Mhmm,” Nicolo hummed in agreement. “Sail the oceans, meet people. I hear they even have a form of marriage for men.” He whispered that last part, a secret for the two lovers.

  
  
“Marriage? I can get behind that.” Yusuf shifted so he was shoulder to shoulder with Nicolo, craning his head to watch the pirates strut around deck. “But would you want that life of violence?”

Nicolo laughed. “You say that as if what we do with Andromache isn’t violence.”

“You’ve got me there,” Yusuf said. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll follow.”

19TH CENTURY

They made their way to the Old World eventually, not without a series of adventures in between. Dreams of snow and blood and figures coming back to life is what eventually forced them back to Europe. Back to France.

The inn was exactly as it had been in their dreams: old, decrepit, but warmly lit and bustling with people. Yusuf and Nicolo walked in together, heads scanning the tables for someone like them. A bump on his arm distracted Yusuf from his search, and he turned to meet Nicolo’s eyes.

“Andromache got here first,” Nicolo murmured, gesturing to a table in the corner. There sat Andromache and the blonde man from their dreams. Andromache was staring right at them, but the blonde man was hunched over, hands tightly clasping his mug. The pair crossed the room to her, taking the chairs opposite Andromache.

Yusuf opened his mouth to speak, grateful that he had practiced his French, but the blonde man spoke first. “Andrea said you’d come,” he said, his posture still hunched. “My name is Sebastien le Livre.”

“Andrea?” Yusuf repeated, giving Andromache a challenging look. She nodded her head lightly, turning back to face Sebastien.

“Yes,” Nicolo said, placing a hand on the table next to Yusuf’s. “We had the same dreams as her. I’m sure you have many questions.”

“I do.”

“Then speak.”

20TH CENTURY

Their apartment was dark, all lights turned off to accommodate the glow of the television in front of them. They hadn’t lived in New York for long, and Yusuf was regretting the newness of their couch as he shifted for the third time in the past minute.

“Shh,” Nicolo hushed, eyes transfixed on the television. His hands were clutching Yusuf’s, pressed anxiously against his chest. The screen in front of him was gray and grainy, a barely perceptible man jumping onto a rocky surface.

“As children, could we ever even have dreamed of this?” Nicolo said, still focused on the screen and the presenter's voice.

“No,” Yusuf said, passion slipping into his words. He was turned towards his lover, watching the light flicker onto his face. They both knew he wasn’t referencing the man on the moon.

21ST CENTURY

It took too long for him to wake up. Every time Nicolo—Nicky, as he went by now—died, Joe felt that familiar stutter in his chest. Minutes had passed and Nicky was still dead as the battle went on around them, until suddenly he wasn’t.

Joe was leaning against Nicolo, watching Andy walk to Booker. They had just decided his fate, settling on the 100 years. This was so new for them, never having to make a decision like this. Yusuf had wanted much more than Booker got, the image of Nicky’s brains on the ground burnt into his retina.

“Thank you for letting up,” Nicky whispered, turning his head to face Joe. Joe lifted his hand and cupped Nicky’s jaw.

“He deserved more,” Joe protested.

“Maybe. Or maybe he deserved less.”

“You know that’s not true.”

  
“Do I?” Nicky asked. He glanced down at Joe’s lips before flicking back to his eyes.

“Nicky, I…” Joe began, shifting so his body faced Nicky’s. He took his lover’s hands and held them in the space between their bodies, clutching them like a lifeline. “Seeing you on the ground like that, it won’t leave my head. I was so afraid.”

“You don’t have to be. We got into this together, we’re leaving this together,” Nicky said, rubbing Joe’s palms with his thumb.

“I was like that because of you,” Joe said. “It’s always because of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments! i love any and all comments


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